


Ended With The Night

by KiwiWrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - 1920s, FrostIron - Freeform, I'm Bad At Tagging, Loki is defo Tony's sugar daddy but ssshhhhh, M/M, Mafia AU, Murder Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Strangers to Lovers, bad cop - Freeform, dere's been a moidah, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-02 11:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18809992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiWrites/pseuds/KiwiWrites
Summary: Tony Stark is a detective assigned to what appears to be a run of the mill murder case. But he's soon wrapped up in a world of murder and blood money when he discovers the victim is the fiance of powerful gangster Thor Odinson, who is convinced that his brother, the equally powerful Loki is the man behind the murder. Loki, on the other hand, just wants this whole fiasco over with quickly, and decides funding the detective is probably the fastest way to go about doing so.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony needed a drink. Nothing, in particular, had really happened, aside from Steve’s usual rant about “those damn mobsters” or whatever it was he was currently talking his ear off about.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Tony, if we don’t do something, those two are gonna own the whole city,” Steve stated. Tony rolled his eyes and picked up his newspaper.

“Steve, they already do. They own our asses too,” Tony countered.

“They certainly don’t own me, I’ll tell ya that right now.” Steve jabbed an unlit cigar in Tony’s direction as he spoke before putting it in his mouth. “You got a match?”

Tony sighed, handing Steve a box of matches. Steve lit the cigar, taking a drag, just as the chief approached their desk.

“Look alive you two, we got a homicide down by the river,” Fury said.

“East or west?” Steve asked, standing up straight.

“West, female victim, mid-twenties or so.”

“Got it,” Steve said, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “Let’s go, Tony.”

“Yeah, I’m comin’.” Tony stood up with a sigh, grabbing his coat and following Steve out the door. He _really_ needed a drink.

 

The scene was a gruesome one, but not the worst thing Tony had seen. He’d seen bodies, bloated and half eaten by fish come out of this river with gunshot wounds in their chests and cinder bricks tied to their shoes. People with their fingers cut off and teeth pulled out to make it impossible to identify them. People so mutilated he could hardly tell they were human anymore. This was tame by comparison.

The woman was young, no older than twenty-five, with shoulder-length brown hair, matted with her own blood. She wore a low-cut dress covered in sequins and dyed an eye-catching deep blue under a black fur coat, stained with red around her chest. She’d been stabbed, not shot, if the splatter and shape of the wound was anything to go off of. Another man came up to them, Doctor Banner.

“What are we working with, Bruce?” Steve asked.

“Her name’s Jane Foster, she’s twenty-four, unemployed. Engaged, and to someone of importance if that rock on her hand is anything to go off of.” Tony noticed it now, a diamond as big around as a penny glittered on her left hand.

“Any idea who that fiance is? Any witnesses?” Tony asked.

Bruce shook his head. “No witnesses as of yet. No lead on the fiance either.”

“Damn.” Tony kicked a coke can on the ground, digging around in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes.

“Well, if anything changes, call the station,” Steve stated, “We have a file to write up.”

Tony waved as the two of them got back in the car. Steve slid into the driver’s seat, and as soon as they pulled away from the scene, he began talking.

“So we got no witnesses, no murder weapon, we don’t know who the fiance is, but we know he’s someone important.”

“She’s probably some big-shot mobster’s girl,” Tony said, rolling down his window. “Someone with a bone to pick got his hands on her, killed her to get at him.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“Well, it ain’t a mugging, I can say that right now.”

“You’re right, that ring was still on her hand, same with those pearls on her neck,” Steve agreed.

“And… well, her clothes were still intact, if you catch my drift.”

“Loud and clear,” Steve replied, “maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Tony shook his head. “No way. You ever seen a gal like that in this shithole? She was either nabbed, taken here and killed, or someone put her body there on purpose.” It was true, the area around the riverbank was the place all the scum of the city congregated. Seedy homes, and seedier bars, and everything covered in a layer of dirt and grime. The people there were poor as dirt and shit outta luck. That sort of place bred desperation, and desperation bred crime.

Steve sighed. “You know I hate thinking about it like this, but who controls the west side of the river?” Steve was painfully optimistic and was probably one of the few cops left in this dump of a city that couldn’t be bought. He refused to think of any area as being some mobster’s “territory”.

“Loki,” Tony replied.

“I meant that area in particular,” Steve clarified.

“Right. Of course.” Tony scratched his head. “Something Italian sounding. Marino? Somethin’ Marino, I dunno.” Loki had a lot of lackeys in control of segments of his territory, and those lackeys had lackeys, and so on and so forth. It was tricky to keep track of the hierarchy of gangsters in his own area, much less another one, even for Tony. Tony had had his ear to the ground ever since the old don had died in November. His two sons had split the city in half, with the west going to Loki, the youngest, and the East going to Thor, who was the oldest son. The first month had been chaos as every mobster in the city picked sides, and turf wars broke out along both sides of the riverbank. But, after the dust had settled and the lines were drawn, the city had had five months of relative peace. Or at least as peaceful as a city overrun by poverty and crime could be.

“Hey, you alive in there?” Steve asked, waving a hand in front of Tony’s face. Apparently, his musings had gone on longer than he’d intended. They were already back at the precinct.

“Wha-oh, yeah.” Tony stepped out of the car. “We’ve got paperwork to do.”

Murder cases were always a hassle. There was the victim’s family to notify and track down, there was the discussion on how much was to be released to the public, the list went on. But this one had the added benefit of a very powerful man on the wrong side of the river storming into the precinct. “Where is she!” He thundered, “what happened?”

“Sir, please calm down,” said Pepper, the receptionist who Tony was convinced had a thing for him. “If you tell us who you’re looking for, we can better assist you.”

The man turned his stormy gaze on her, and, for just a moment, softened. “Jane.” He took a breath, and when he next spoke, his voice was still quiet, but now with a hard edge. “Where is my fiancé?”

Tony stood up. “‘Fraid you’re gonna have to call off the wedding.” Tony knew who this was, even if he didn’t keep track of east-side goings-on. Everyone knew who this was. Loki controlled his territory like a puppet master, pulling strings for his own entertainment and profit. Tony could hardly afford his monthly protection fees as it was under Loki’s control. But he was tame in comparison to this man. Thor Odinson, the man who ruled over the east-side of the river like a tyrant, was standing not two inches in front of Tony’s face. He towered over him, and Tony was almost afraid.

“Are you the one investigating her case?” Thor asked. _Huh_ , Tony thought. He’d never known the Odinsons were Brits.

“I am.”

“Well, you can say goodbye to it.” Thor addressed the room. “I want Jane Foster’s case moved to a precinct on the east side by the end of the week.” He turned back to Tony. “Or there will be hell to pay.” Thor stormed out the door, leaving the room in tense silence. Tony really needed that drink now.

 

It was two days later when Tony finally had enough free time to get it. Tony had been losing his mind over this case. His working theory is that it was Loki, but he had no evidence to back it up. Then again, he didn’t have any evidence _at all._ No fingerprints, nothing of value under the victim's nails, no convenient trail of blood or footprints leading away from the crime scene. No matter what angle Tony took, he came up empty-handed. Frankly, his mood had gotten worse and worse as the days went by. Thor’s week deadline didn’t help, but Tony was being stubborn and refused to give up the case until he absolutely had to. “Where are you headed, Tony?” Steve asked, swinging the keys of his car around his finger.

“Home,” Tony lied. He wasn’t in the mood to talk. He had had a very long day….. he was very small….. and he had no money…. so you could imagine the kind of stress that he was under. **(Remember to rewrite this before posting)**

“Alright. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Tony walked away before Steve could continue the conversation. His partner was fine, and he liked talking with him when he was in a good mood, but right now was not one of those times. He lit a cigarette as he walked, sighing. He followed a route he knew well, so well in fact that he could follow it without thought. Through back alleys and side streets, to a run-down building with jazz and laughter filtering through the closed door. He walked in and was greeted with the familiar low-lighting of his favourite haunt. Cigar smoke hung thick in the air, and a small jazz band played at the back of the room. A group of men were playing a casual game of pool, occasionally raising their voices or laughing when an unlikely shot was made. Tony was recognized by some of the regulars and was even invited to play pool, but he politely turned them down, instead making his way to the bar.  

“What’ll it be, detective?” The bartender asked.

“I’ve told you, Barton, I ain’t a detective when I’m off duty.”

“Right, of course. So what’ll it be, Tony?”

“Coke and rum.”

“You got it, boss.” Clint was quick at making the drink, setting it down in front of Tony. As he reached for it, Clint leaned close to his ear. “Don’t look now, but the gent in the back corner has been watching you since you walked in.”

Tony felt a chill run up his spine. In this city, being a cop was dangerous. A man sitting in a dark corner, watching your every move, well… that could very well be a death sentence. Tony took Clint’s advice, forcing a laugh as the man pulled back and acted as if nothing had happened. He brought his glass to his mouth, trying to ignore the shaking in his hand. Now that it had been pointed out, Tony could feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of his skull, watching his every move intently. Or maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe he should have watched his mouth with Odinson earlier today. Maybe his promise of there being ‘hell to pay’ was being fulfilled early. Maybe-

Tony couldn’t take it anymore. His mind was racing to all possible worst-case scenarios. He set his glass down, took a deep breath, and slowly-oh so slowly-turned his head to look.

His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach when he did, and he could feel that chill up his spine come back with a vengeance, like ice in his veins. Tony was thankful for the low lighting, it hid the fact that his face had gone pale as a sheet at what he saw. He was grateful for the hat he’d kept on his head, the shadows hid the terror in his eyes as he looked.

There, sitting alone in a booth at the back corner, was a man Tony had only heard descriptions of. He’d heard stories of a man, slim, tall and imposing, sharply dressed in black, to hide blood stains or so they said. A man who had eyes that felt like they pierced right through your soul, seeing every imperfection and lie you tried to tell. Those eyes were fixed on Tony now, and Tony knew every rumour he’d heard of this man had to be true. Stories of murder and extortion and torture. The sound of the jazz band faded out, leaving nothing but Tony’s own frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears. And then the man sitting in the booth smiled, and Tony was sure he’d be dead by the end of the night.

Tony turned back around, his mouth suddenly dry and his breathing heavy. Loki Odinson, the most powerful man this side of the river, was watching him from the back of the bar. He took another gulp of his drink, making eye contact with Clint again. He was sure he looked positively terrified.

Tony simply stared into his glass for a while, not sure what else to do. If he left, someone would probably follow him home or kill him in a back alley. Tony thought back to Jane, dead on the riverside. He didn’t want to end up like that. But, he also didn’t want to look back at him, because that would be acknowledging the fact that one of the most notorious gangsters in the city was sitting in the back of his favourite bar with his eyes fixed on Tony. But he couldn’t just sit there forever, either. Eventually, the place would either clear out or close, and Tony would end in the streets or alone with him. He had to make a choice. Tony gathered whatever courage he had, gripped his glass, and whipped back around to look. He was still staring, still smirking. Tony had hoped that maybe it wasn’t who he thought it was, but there was nobody else who dressed that well or flaunted his wealth that openly. And then Loki raised his hand and made an unmistakable gesture, an invitation-no, a _command-_ to join him. Tony hesitated for a moment, then kicked himself for doing so. Tony was scared shitless, but he’d be damned if he let this murderer know it.

He stood up from his stool, grabbed his drink, and walked across the bar with his head held high. He slid into the booth across from Loki. The lighting wasn’t doing much for his features, setting the sharpness of his jaw and cheekbones in harsh relief to the point of looking almost skeletal.

“It’s awfully rude to stare, y’know,” Tony said.

Loki smiled again, that same grin that made Tony want to shiver, picking up his glass and taking a sip. “You’ll have to forgive me, I’m afraid I can’t help it.”

“And why’s that?”

“Well, you see, you are just the man I was looking for.”

Tony felt his heart speed up, ever so slightly. “And… why were you looking for me?” He’d dropped the attitude at this point. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on thin ice.

“You’re aware of the death of Jane Foster, I presume,” Loki started. Tony swore Loki hadn’t blinked since they’d started this conversation. “It’s truly unfortunate, and so close to her wedding with my brother as well.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m, uh, the one on her case.”

And then Loki’s grin grew wider. That was the smile of a maniac, Tony was sure. “Precisely.”

“So… what? You want to buy me off?” Tony finished.

“I’m sorry?”

Maybe he wasn’t familiar with American colloquialisms. “You know, have me plant some fake evidence, get the dogs off your scent?”

Loki leaned forward, any semblance of friendliness falling away as he hissed, “What exactly are you implying, detective?”

Tony realized his mistake too late. “I-I’m sorry, I should have assumed I just… well, everyone knows that you and your brother aren’t exactly friends, I just figured, uh…” Tony trailed off.

“It’s simply unfathomable!” Loki exclaimed. How could this man be insulted? He’d killed more people than Tony had even met, and hadn’t had an ounce of remorse for any of them. “Your estranged brother’s fiance turns up dead in your territory and everyone thinks you’re responsible.”

It was just outrageous to think that Loki could feel-wait what? “You mean you didn’t… do it?”

“Of course not! You’re a homicide detective, work it out! What motivation would I have for starting another war with my brother?”

“That’s right. Your whole schtick is selling weapons to support other gang wars, isn’t it?”

That smirk was back again. “Exactly. To start one of my own would simply be bad for business. See? I knew you were a smart bloke.”

Tony swirled his drink in his glass, finishing it off before he next spoke, treading lightly. It was difficult not to jump ahead and try to guess what Loki wanted. Clearly, he wasn’t very good at it. “If you don’t want me to cover up the murder… what _do_ you want from me?”

“It’s quite simple, really. I want you to solve the case as quickly as possible.”

“I don’t follow,” Tony prompted.

“My brother is convinced that I killed miss Foster, and no amount of arguing to the contrary will change his mind. But, if I can help you point my brother in the direction of the true killer quickly, I can keep the quarrel from escalating,” Loki explained. He took another sip of his own drink, the ice cubes clinking quietly as he tipped it back. “What I’m proposing is… a partnership. I will fund anything you might need. Private investigators, bodyguards, anything you think will help with the investigation.”

Tony thought for a moment, eyebrows furrowed as he stared into his empty glass. “My partner won’t be happy with it. And I’ve got until the end of the week to turn the case over to another precinct before your brother decides to rip me a new asshole.”

“Ah, yes. My brother is convinced I will, as you put it, ‘buy off’ any detectives on the west side to keep myself out of jail,” Loki said with an amused smile. “If you turn the case over, I can pull some strings and grant you access to any information you’d be blocked from.”

“And Steve? I mean no offence, but he’s hardly a fan of your type. He’ll have my head if he finds out I’m workin’ with you.”

“Ah yes, Detective Rogers. I was planning for this partnership to be quite hush-hush, so the fewer people who know of our involvement the better. You would be taking on this role outside of your work as a detective, you see.”

“Right. Duh.” Tony thought about it for a while.

“Well, do we have a deal?” Loki extended his hand. This felt a little too close to dealing with the devil for Tony’s taste. Not that he was exactly a devout Catholic. But, in any case, what choice did he have?

“Deal.” Tony clasped Loki’s hand with a firm shake.

Loki gave Tony a clap on the shoulder. “I knew you were a smart man.” Loki stood up, picking up his cane and throwing on his overcoat. “I’d like you to update me on your progress regularly. Say, once a week?” Loki handed him a card, which had his name printed on it in neat letters, with a phone number written underneath. “You can also call if you need anything pertaining to the investigation.”

Tony managed to mutter a weak “Thank you.” as Loki walked out the door of the bar, though he wasn’t really sure what he was thanking him for at this point. Or what he was getting himself into...


	2. Chapter 2

Tony had more paperwork. Turning the case over was another hassle that involved more things to write up and sign, and by the time he was done, Tony was ready to clock out. But he couldn’t go home just yet. Loki was counting on him to get his brother off his ass, and he was not a man Tony wanted to keep waiting. So, after finishing up for the day, Tony walked to the crime scene. The body had been removed, taken to the morgue for analysis. Tony would need Loki’s help if he wanted to get in there now. So instead, he decided one last look around the scene would do him good. He flashed his badge, ducked under the yellow tape, and stood in the center of the taped off area, between an old apartment building and a sheer drop to the river below.

He began to mutter to himself. “Body was there… can’t leave drag marks on pavement, but there was no trail of blood either, so she probably wasn’t brought here after she died… hold on…” Tony’s eyes scanned the side of the building. There was a scattering of gravel on the ground close to the wall, which Tony walked over to. It almost looked like it had been kicked around in one spot, like someone had been trying to cover something up quickly. There. He leaned down, pushing aside the loose stones. It was small, but it was there. A drop of blood. “Now who left it?” Tony stood back up, looking up and down the alley. “Bingo.” Not far from the spot of blood was a rusted fire escape. A piece of metal jutted out of the structure, bent ever so slightly out of place. “Found you.” A tiny scrap of fabric was stuck between the fire escape and the wall of the building, and expensive fabric at that. Black, thick, and surprisingly soft. Tony fished a cotton glove from his pocket, taking the piece of fabric and tucking it into his breast pocket. “Fancy,” Tony remarked. 

Tony spent the next hour or so combing the scene for more clues. He was surprised he’d missed them the first time. That being said, he hadn’t been working for a gangster with a very famous temper the first time. There was a little more incentive to get things right now. After he was sure he’d been thorough, he went home. He was glad to examine his little scrap under better lighting. It was definitely from a suit of some sort. He could only think of two people who had enough money for a suit like that, and neither of them had a motive. Still, phoning in seemed like a good idea.

The nearest phone was in the lobby, so he picked up the card Loki had given him and headed downstairs. The phone rang twice before a voice picked up on the other end, smooth and eerie. “Hello?”

“Hi, sir, it’s detective Stark.” Tony did his best to ignore the fact that his heart still pounded in his throat at that voice.

“Ah, hello detective. I take it you’ve news for me?” Loki said.

“Yes sir, but I don’t know if you’re gonna like it.” 

“Go on then, I’m a busy man, Stark.”

“Right of course.” Tony bit his lip, “I found a scrap of fabric at the crime scene, and based on my analysis it’s not from a suit just anyone could buy.”

“You’re saying the killer is someone with power?” 

“More money than that. Two people in the whole city have got enough money for this.”

There was a long pause. “Choose your next words carefully, Stark.” The words were uttered in a low growl that made Tony’s spine stiffen. He took a breath to collect himself.

“Check your suits. I’m trustin’ you got nothing to hide, but someone could be setting you up. If you find one with a tear, lemme know, we can see if it matches, and then we’ll know if the killer has access to your home. It’ll narrow down the field hugely.”

“Of course… I’ll see to that, and I’ll contact you if need be,” Loki said, “and, perhaps next time, find a more private phone,” he added, followed by a click as he hung up. 

Tony felt that chill returning as he turned around. A man in a black suit was sitting on a seat in the lobby, watching him. There was a device in his hand, like the pagers that officers sometimes used on patrols. Tony gave a curt nod to the man, ignoring the sinking in the pit of his stomach as he made his way back up the steps of his apartment building. He made sure to bolt the door shut, and turn both the locks on the handle and the door itself. He’d never even thought about the fact that, if Loki knew where Tony spent his time, odds were he knew where Tony lived too. He should have expected the monster to have people watching him, but even so. Seeing that man in the lobby with his eyes trained on Tony had been a shock. Granted, not as much of a shock as seeing Loki himself watching him yesterday, but the thought was unnerving.

Tony didn’t sleep that night. He felt like a child, covers tucked up to his chin in fear as his imagination ran wild. He’d catch glimpses of his coat hanger out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment his heart would all but stop, his over exhausted brain convincing him it was Loki, standing quietly in the corner, those piercing eyes fixed intently on him. Headlights passing by his window were a regular occurrence on his busy street, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they lingered too long on his apartment like someone was slowing down to try to spy in on him. Tony finally gave up on the notion of sleep around one in the morning, instead choosing to sit at his desk and read. Tony woke up the next morning with a sore neck and drool all over his novel.

The phone in the station rang shortly after he got into work. Tony moved to grab it, but Pepper beat him to it, answering with a pleasant “Hello?” There was a pause as Pepper listened to the other side, then a “yes of course.” She covered the phone “It’s for you, Tony.”

Tony took the phone, and before he could even say anything, Loki started talking. “Detective Stark, I did what you asked, and I believe I have something of interest. Can we meet today? The cafe on fourteenth street at noon would do nicely, I think.”

Tony glanced warily at Pepper, who had returned to her typewriter. “Yes, that’ll be good.”

“Thank you, detective.” There was a click as Loki hung up. 

Tony handed the phone back to Pepper. “Who was that?” She asked.

“Uh, just a friend. He’s only gonna be in town for a while, so we’re catchin’ up over coffee today, didn’t know how else to call me.”

Pepper rolled her eyes with a grin. “Well, let him know you can’t use that phone for personal calls.”

Tony nodded. “‘Course. They just do things a little different in England I guess.”

Pepper smiled, returning to her work. Tony sat back down at his own desk and tried to get some work done, but he was so exhausted and sore it was difficult to focus. It felt like ages before Tony’s lunch break started, and by that point, he was half asleep. Tony grabbed his coat and his hat. Steve offered him a ride, but Tony turned it down, opting to walk instead. It had been brisk that morning, but now the sun was pleasantly warm on Tony’s face as he made his way to the cafe Loki had mentioned. Tony didn’t go there often, it wasn’t really his speed, but he knew the place.

As he walked in, the bell on the door jingled merrily, and Tony’s eyes immediately shot to the back of the room, where Loki had chosen a table in the back corner. Tony warily made his way, sitting across from him. When he did, a young waiter came to the table with a cheerful expression. “Hello! What can I-” he cut himself off as he noticed who he was speaking to, his eyes going wide.

Tony gave the kid a sympathetic look. “I’ll take a black coffee, please.”

“And orange pekoe for myself, please.”

It took the waiter a moment before he remembered himself, nodding and stammering out an apology as he wrote down their orders. He was swift to bring them their drinks, muttering another apology as he set them down on the table. Loki thanked him and he rushed to another table. Tony grinned, bringing his mug to his mouth.

“You like your shady corners, huh?” He said.

Loki sipped his tea. “I suppose. It’s safer that I stay away from any windows when I’m out in public, you see. I have many enemies.”

Tony nodded. “That, uh, makes sense. Speakin’ of enemies, you got any that would frame you like this?” He asked.

“More than I can count. But, that’s not exactly what we’re here for.”

“Oh, right!” Tony dug into his coat pocket, pulling out the scrap of fabric. “You found a coat with a tear, I take it?”

“Yes, this one,” Loki said, holding his sleeve forward to show where the fabric was missing a piece. Tony held the scrap up to the hole, turning it around a few times before…

“It lines up. Perfectly,” he remarked, “so that narrows our list. Anyone who would have access to your house could be the one.”

“Hmm. Employees cannot be ruled out,” Loki mumbled. He turned to Tony. “I may need your help sorting through my employees.”

“Me?” Tony leaned back a little, slightly taken aback.

“You’re the only other person who knows about this investigation, detective, and I don’t intend to involve anyone else unless absolutely necessary.” Loki fixed Tony with a stern look. The usual nervousness accompanied by that look was accentuated by the sudden realization that Loki’s eyes were strikingly blue. Not saturated to the point of being inhuman, actually they were quite the opposite. An aggressive steel blue that served to punctuate the potency of his expression.

Tony looked away from that intense stare. “Right, of course. When do you want me there?”

“Preferably today. I can send a car to the precinct after you’re finished work.” Loki stood up as he spoke, smoothing out his coat.

Tony nodded. “Sure, uh, that works.”

“Wonderful,” Loki said, “goodbye, detective.” Loki brought out his wallet, leaving a tip for their waiter. Tony’s eyes widened marginally as he saw Loki place a five dollar bill under his mug. “To make up for harrowing the poor boy,” he explained with a grin.

Tony couldn’t help but chuckle as Loki went up to the counter to pay. He waited a few moments after Loki walked out before leaving.

 

Tony walked out of the precinct at the end of the day to find a sleek black automobile waiting for him on the curb. There was a man standing outside the car who looked up as Tony approached. “Detective Stark?” he asked.

“That’s me,” Tony replied. The man opened the back door of the car for him, and Tony slid into the car. The seats were soft black leather. The man got into the drivers’ seat and pulled away from the curb. Tony kept his eyes glued to the window as the car made its way out of the city. They turned onto a dirt road, dust flying behind them as they drove further and further from the city. Tony was beginning to wonder if agreeing to this had been a mistake when the car turned onto another road, this one better kept and lined with towering trees just barely beginning to bud. Tony’s jaw dropped at the sight, a three storey Gilded Age mansion surrounded by a thriving garden and rolling green lawns. The house itself reminded Tony of a photo he’d seen of a French cathedral, a towering stone building with a steep, red-shingled roof. There were even a few rounded sections of the house that reminded Tony of medieval towers. Ivy wound its way up the walls, a stark contrast to the red of the roof. The car pulled into a sheltered area in front of the door, the driver letting Tony out. He stepped out of the car and made his way to the door, eight feet tall and solid mahogany. 

“You can just go on in, he’s expecting you,” The driver said.

“Right. Thanks,” Tony replied. He took hold of the gilded door handle and the door opened with a low groan. Tony found himself standing in an elegant foyer with a high vaulted ceiling, an intricate chandelier hanging down in the centre of the vast room. Twin staircases framed the room, both curving gently up to the second floor, which was a total waste in Tony’s opinion. The wall between the staircases was adorned with a full body portrait of Loki, dressed even more formally than he usually did in a black tailcoat over a striking emerald green waistcoat, leaning on a gold-capped walking stick. Whether it was an artistic interpretation or a request, Loki’s eyes had been painted an eye-catching cobalt blue. 

“Appreciating the artwork?” asked a familiar voice. Tony jumped with a gasp, looking up to see Loki at the top of the staircase. Loki had shed the many layers he wore out, instead opting for a white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks. It made Tony feel wholly overdressed, and he tugged at his shirt collar awkwardly as Loki descended the stairs. 

“Uh, yeah it’s um, it’s well-painted,” Tony mumbled. Loki cast a long glance up at the portrait. 

“It was a little rushed, so I’m afraid it’s not exactly what I’d wanted, but it’s sufficient.” There was a brief pause. “In any case, we have work to do, this way.” Loki walked back up the stairs, Tony following behind him as he was led through a maze of hallways and rooms until he was too disoriented to remember the way back to the front door. Eventually, Loki brought them to a closed set of double doors. He pushed them open, revealing a library, panelled in dark wood and filled with overstuffed couches around a low wooden table. 

“Wow. Can I just say you have a nice house? It’s a very nice house.”

Loki didn’t look at him, but he did smile. “It was my father’s, he built it on family money when he came to America,” he said, “I was quite young when we moved here.”

“Doesn’t the oldest usually get the house?” Tony asked. 

“Typically, but Thor had no interest in maintaining it, so he agreed to let me have it.”

“Lucky you,” Tony remarked, taking a seat.

“I suppose,” Loki replied, sitting across from him. “Now, let’s start. I have a long list of employees to go through.” Loki gestured to a black binder on the table, opening it up. “We can cut out the groundskeepers, they don’t come in the house.” He flipped past a few pages. “The cleaning staff are most likely, they have a reason to be around my room, but someone from the kitchen staff could have easily slipped in while I was gone…” Loki ran through a list of what seemed like a million different jobs, cutting out anyone who wouldn’t have any business in the house. Then, he divided the remaining list with Tony and the two set to work, making lists of who had been working in the three days leading up to Jane’s murder. “That coat was at the dry-cleaner before that, and I know it didn’t have a hole when I got it back,” he explained.

By the time they were finished, they had a list of about twenty staff-members, as well as three guests Loki thought could be likely candidates. “So, give me the run-down on this Thanos guy,” Tony said.

Loki leaned back on the couch. He’d switched his seat so that he was sitting next to each other, that way they could share a piece of paper for writing down names, the list alternating between Tony’s large, all-capitals printing, and Loki’s elegant cursive. “He’s the head of a large family in another city,” Loki started, “he and my father wanted to unite the families, compile our power to stretch across multiple cities.” Loki laughed humorlessly. “It sounds archaic to say, but the plan was to have a wedding, as a symbol of the union and a sign of good will.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Talk about old school.”

Another laugh from Loki, this time a genuine one. “Yes, you could say that. Neither me nor Thanos’ daughter, Gamora, were pleased with the arrangement. I met with him a few days ago to call off the engagement. He may have taken that as a slight, or he may be trying to weaken me in order to take my territory by force.”

Tony sat in silence for a moment. “You know, the more I learn about this whole world of gangs and shit, the more it seems like somethin’ out of the fourteenth century. Families with control over large areas pass down territory through generations and marry into each other to expand their territory.”

“You’re right, the entire thing feels quite stuck in the past.” Loki nodded to Tony. “In any case, Thanos was accompanied by Gamora and her sister, Nebula. Gamora was opposed to the marriage, which rules her out, but Nebula is quite loyal to her father and is also an impressive assassin. I wouldn’t rule her out as a suspect.”

“Right. So she wouldn’t have a hard time sneakin’ around your house and nabbing something to plant at a crime scene.”

“Precisely,” Loki agreed, “I have a contact in similar circles to Nebula who can hopefully assist us.” Loki picked up a notepad and a pen, writing something down and handing the paper to Tony. “You can contact her through that number, tell her it’s a favour for me.” Tony took the paper with a nod. “Thank you for assistance, detective.”

“No problem,” Tony replied. He grabbed his discarded jacket, throwing it over his shoulders. Loki opened the door for him, and the pair walked back to the front door. There was a car waiting for Tony when he opened the door, nodding to Loki as he climbed back in the car. 

It was a different driver this time, different car too. “Care for a drink, sir?” The driver asked.

“Uh, sure.” Tony was a little shocked. The driver passed a bottle of scotch and a glass, and Tony helped himself. “Thanks.” He took a sip. It was high-quality stuff. Tony leaned against the window of the car, watching the warmly lit house fade into the darkness. Tony sipped his drink as he heard thunder rumble and rain start to fall on the windshield, not an unusual occurrence this time of year.

They hadn’t gotten far when Tony started to feel a little nauseous, like the world was ever so slightly off balance. He almost chalked it up to carsickness; he’d never liked sitting in the back seat, and it only got worse at night. But something wasn’t sitting right. Slowly, he brought the drink to his mouth, taking his time as he tasted it. There was a faint sweetness he hadn’t noticed, a mild aftertaste on his tongue. That meant… something. His brain couldn’t seem to make the connection. “Could you pull over?” He asked. The driver didn’t reply. That didn’t seem like a good sign. He tapped the driver on the should. “I said-” The driver slammed on the breaks, throwing Tony forward with a jolt. He fell backwards as he overbalanced and ended up on his back on the floor of the car. The driver jumped into the back, putting a knee his chest. Tony’s eyes went wide as he saw him rear his arm back and noticed the glint of a knife in his hand. He caught the descending arm, stopping the blade inches from his throat. His mind was foggy as he tried to process what was happening, pushing back against his attacker. He managed to pull the knife from his grip, turning it against him. He sank it deep into the driver’s shoulder and heard him cry out as the weight was lifted off Tony’s chest. He scrabbled for the door, tumbling out of the car and looking around. Between the quickly worsening storm and his own disorientation, Tony couldn’t make sense of which way was which. His eyes fixed on a light at the top of a hill, a decent ways off to the left. There was a small building with a gate, and a wall leading off to either side. That was the gatehouse! Tony rose slowly to his feet, standing still for a moment as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Then, he started stumbling back to the only place he could think to go.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki had a headache. Between keeping his territory under his thumb and this investigation, Loki had been under even more stress than he usually was. Not to mention the fact that Loki had to deal with the annoyance of that smart-alec detective. At least he’d been quick to learn when to stop asking questions. He’d poured himself a drink as he tried to go over the list they’d compiled, but the throbbing behind his eyes made it impossible to focus. He ended up laying back on his couch, pressing the cool glass to his forehead and listening to the storm outside. He’d been afraid of thunder as a child. He remembered Thor barging into his room in the night whenever a storm would roll in, jumping around excitedly while he hid under the covers. He had outgrown the fear, though the first roll of thunder still made him jump sometimes. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the clanging of the knocker against his front door echoing through the house. Loki’s brow furrowed. Who could that be? He was miles away from anyone else. Unless… 

Loki picked up his jacket, pulling a colt from a pocket on the inside. He made his way to the door and slowly opened it, keeping the gun hidden from view on the other side of the door. Lightning cast the person at his doorstep in a harsh silhouette for a moment, and when the light faded, Loki had to stifle a gasp. Detective Stark was standing in his doorway, blood on his hands and a glazed look in his eyes. Loki dropped the gun in his rush to catch him as Stark stumbled forward.

“Didn’t know where else to go,” he slurred, attempting to stand up. Loki caught him again, putting an arm around his waist. He pulled Stark’s arm across his shoulders, helping him up the stairs to a guest room. He flipped on the lamp and laid him on the bed, removing his shoes and coat. Stark giggled, actually  _ giggled _ , like a child. “They’re super blue,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Your eyes’r really blue right now.” Another little laugh. “Baby blue. S’pretty.”

Loki felt himself blush. “I don’t know what happened, but you’re clearly impaired, go to sleep.” Loki turned the lamp off and left, leaning against the door when it was closed. He put his head in his hands. “Oh god…” he muttered. He’d thought he’d gotten past this, that those thoughts had been a teenage phase. But that simple compliment had sent the blood rushing to his cheeks and butterflies fluttering in his stomach like he was a schoolgirl with a crush. He shook his head. Surely not. He was merely flustered at such a comment because it was so out of line for the detective. It had taken him by surprise was all. Besides, he was the most powerful man west of the river, he didn’t have time or need for such feelings. He’d be sure to keep the detective at an arm’s length.

Loki went to his wardrobe, picking out a change of clothes for when Stark woke up. He left them on the dresser in the guest room, having discovered Stark already sound asleep when he came back. His headache was still pounding against his skull, so he took an Aspirin before retiring to bed.

 

Tony woke up in a bed that wasn’t his. His mind was somewhat foggy, and worst of all there seemed to be gaps in his memory. He remembered the driver handing him a drink, realizing he’d been drugged, the driver slamming the breaks, and then… something. It was blank from there. He rolled over, planting his bare feet on the plush carpet and rubbed his eyes. There was a stack of folded clothing on the ornate dresser across the room. Tony got up with a groan, wobbling slightly as he made his way across the room. The clothes were a little big for Tony. The sleeves hung past his hands and the pant-legs dragged on the ground. Tony grabbed his suspenders from his old clothes. He’d only just adjusted them when a soft knock sounded on the other side of the door. Tony opened the door wide enough to look through. There was a woman who Tony assumed was a maid on the other side of the door. She flashed him a pleasant smile.

“Oh good, you’re up. Mister Odinson wanted me to come and wake you if you weren’t.”

“Oh uh, yeah, I’m up.” He scratched the back of his head. So he was at Loki’s house. He supposed that made sense, he didn’t know who else could afford a guest room this nice.

“He’s currently in the garden with breakfast if you’d like to join him. I can wash your old clothes in the meantime.”

Tony opened the door wide enough for her to pass. “Thanks,” he said, “how do I get to the garden?”

“First floor, go to the kitchen, there’s a mud room on the right with a door that leads outside, he’ll be at the table to your left,” she said.

Tony nodded, thanking her and making his way outside. He walked out and found himself on a wide, open terrace, lined with bushes and flowers, most of their buds yet to open. He looked to his left, where a small round table sat at the edge of the terrace beneath the shade of a towering willow. Loki sat at the table with his breakfast. Tony walked over.

“Oh, good morning, Detective Stark,” Loki greeted, setting down his utensils. A stack of paper-thin pancakes sat at the centre of the table, along with an assortment of fruits and jellies. “I trust you slept well?”

“Yeah, like a rock.” Tony chuckled. “Not exactly sure how I ended up back here.” He pulled out a chair. There was a second place set, which Tony assumed was for him. He reached for a pancake, looking to Loki for any sign that he wasn’t supposed to, but Loki simply nodded.

As Tony dished up, Loki explained how Tony had come to Loki’s door with blood on his hands and his eyes glazed over, likely from some kind of drug. “I can’t say exactly what substance it was, but I’ve seen people use the same tactic, putting their victim into a state where they can’t fight back,” Loki stated. He sat forward, fixing his eyes on Tony. They were faded green this morning. Whether it was the morning light, the outdoor setting, or what he was wearing, Tony couldn’t tell. “What do you remember of last night, detective?”

“Not much,” he admitted, “I realized I was drugged and the driver stopped the car, and then it’s a blank.” Tony shook his head. “I think that driver tried to kill me.”

“It would appear that way. Which means that word has gotten out about our partnership, somehow,” Loki said.

Tony paused mid-bite. “And they don’t want this thing solved.”

Loki nodded. “The person who attacked you last night was, if not the killer then someone working with them,” he concluded. After a pause, he added, “I can offer you protection while you carry out the rest of the case. A bodyguard, perhaps a place to stay outside of the city if you feel unsafe.”

Tony poured himself a cup of coffee. “And what if I’d rather not risk my life for this investigation?” he asked tentatively.

Loki’s expression didn’t shift, but somehow, those kaleidoscopic eyes grew piercing and cold as he spoke. “I won’t force you to continue the investigation, Stark. However, know that any evidence of our partnership or this case that you may harbour will be destroyed, and you will be terminated to prevent any information from reaching the public.”

Tony didn’t need to ask what ‘terminated’ meant. Loki’s unblinking stare made that very clear. He swallowed nervously, suddenly losing his appetite. “Understood.”

“Good.” That unwavering stare was still fixed on Tony. “I can arrange for you to stay at the estate,” he offered.

“That’s, uh, very kind of you, sir,” Tony said.

“Make no mistake, Stark, it has nothing to do with kindness. I need you alive, and I’ll ensure you stay that way,” Loki clarified.

Tony’s face went red and he looked away. “Right.” Loki stood up abruptly.

“In any case, there’s work to be done. Call the number I gave you yesterday at your earliest convenience. There’s a phone in my office.” Loki went back inside, leaving Tony alone in the garden. 

 

Loki’s contact, as it turned out, was a woman named Natasha who had been unwilling to give Tony the information he needed over the phone. Instead, they planned a meeting in the city later tonight. “Where are you meeting her?” Loki questioned.

“It’s a speakeasy by city park, y’know, low-profile.”

“Good.” Loki agreed. He’d made sure that the driver was one of his employees before letting Tony get in the car. Now Tony was standing at the curb in front of an unassuming restaurant, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. If this woman was in the same circles as his possible killer, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be anywhere near her. But she wouldn’t hurt him. He was under Loki’s protection on the west side, wasn’t he? He shook away the thoughts and opened the door of the club. He relaxed immediately. It was just like Clint’s bar; the air heavy with cigar smoke and the sultry singing of tonight's entertainment, a young lady in a glamourous lilac dress. His eyes scanned the room for what he’d been told to look for, red hair and a black dress until he saw a woman matching the description. She was beautiful, in a cold and untouchable kind of way, her hair cut short and her long legs exposed by her dress, short even for the style. Tony sat down at her table, speaking softly. “It’s been chilly these past few days, hasn’t it?”

She paused for a moment, setting down her glass. “I have to disagree. I’ve been enjoying the weather.” With the agreed-upon code spoken, Tony was free to ask his questions.

“Detective Tony Stark, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“I know who you are, you introduced yourself over the phone.”

“Right, sorry.” Tony wrung his hands. “Down to business, then,” he muttered, “I’m told you might know where I can find the person I’m looking for.”

Natasha took another sip of her wine, which was a deep red. The brief, irrational thought that it was blood crossed his mind, but that was ridiculous. Sure this woman was scary, and sure she could probably kill him with the butter knife next to her hand, but that didn’t mean she was some kind of monster. Right? “It depends on who you’re looking for.”

“A woman named Nebula.”

“Not exactly a common name,” she commented.

“Well, neither is Natasha but here we are.”

She gave him the briefest flash of something resembling a smile, the barest twitch of the corners of her lips. “But, if we’re talking about the same Nebula, I know of her. Thanos’ daughter, the second best assassin in his territory.”

“ _ Second  _ best?” Tony didn’t want to see who was better.

“Her sister, Gamora got more jobs and had more confirmed kills,” Natasha explained, “but the word on the street is that Gamora ran off with a little gang of bank-robbers on the east side and hasn’t been heard from since.” 

“Talk about a rebellion,” Tony muttered. He remembered Loki telling him about Gamora’s unhappiness with the proposed wedding, but Loki hadn’t told him anything about her running away. It must have been a decision made after the wedding was called off. “In any case, do I have any hope of tracking Nebula down any time soon?”

Natasha nodded. “She’s in town right now, on a job to track Gamora down.” 

“Well, then this must be my lucky day, thanks for sitting down to chat with me,” Tony said, smiling as he made to stand up.

“Not so fast.” Natasha wrapped his arm in an iron grip, slender fingers grasping hard enough to bruise. “If she’s after Gamora, she’ll be on the east side. Loki can’t protect you over there and Thor won’t be thrilled if he hears about a detective sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, especially not one who he specifically told to back off.”

Tony scratched his chin, brows furrowing as he thought. “Good point.”

Natasha sighed. “This hardly seemed like the whole favour,” She muttered, staring into her glass thoughtfully. “Look, I owe Loki big time. Giving you a few names and locations hardly seems like a fair trade,” she started.

“I’m listening.”

“Tell him that I’m offering to go with you, combination bodyguard and guide,” she said. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “half-price.”

Tony grinned. “I’ll be sure to do that.” he extended his hand, she shook it. “It was a pleasure meeting you, miss…”

“Romanoff.”

“Miss Romanoff. I’ll call you if I’m in need of your services.” She didn’t respond as Tony walked back out of the building. Tony checked to make sure it was still the same driver before he got in the car. When they arrived, Tony walked past the stairs, intending to make a beeline for the kitchen and make himself a drink, but his coat snagged on the frame of the portrait. He pulled it free, checking for any tears. He’d borrowed the thing from Loki and if he wrecked it he’d be in big trouble. His heart skipped several beats as the painting fell off the wall with a thud. He rushed to catch it, lowering it to the ground gently. He was sure Loki wouldn’t be very happy with that, but at least nothing had been damaged. He looked up to check the wall for any damage, and what he saw made his jaw drop.

The framed portrait had hidden a beautifully painted mural, a painting of a tall, imposing man with a patch over his right eye, his long grey hair pulled back from his face. Beside him was a stunning blonde woman in a flowing Victorian gown, her golden curls spilling over her shoulders, her eyes a startling cobalt blue. A young boy stood in front of the man, whose hand rested on the blonde boy’s shoulder. They shared the same baby blue eyes and fierce expression, and Tony knew who the boy was immediately. He was Thor, no older than then, with that same stormy look in his eyes. Which meant that the dark-haired child in the woman’s lap had to be Loki. He looked softer in this painting, his eyes not piercing or calculating, but curious and intelligent, the same blue as the man, which Tony took to be Loki’s father. But the lovely family portrait was marred. To the right of the woman, likely Loki’s mother, black paint had been thrown on the wall. He could see the tips of a pair of black boots, a hand on the mother’s chair, but everything else was obscured by the dark splotch. Tony walked closer, putting his hand up to the ruined mural. 

“What did you do?” Shouted Loki from the top of the stairs, thundering down until he was towering over Tony.

“I- The painting fell- I didn’t mean-” Tony spluttered

“Go!” Loki shoved Tony toward the stairs. When Tony didn’t immediately obey, Loki fixed him with a stare that held none of its usual chill. No, the look in Loki’s eyes was pure fire as he roared, “GO!” Tony stumbled over his feet as he made his way up to his room, slamming the door. His heart was pounding in his ears as he laid down on the bed.

His mind brought up what he’d seen, the marred mural and the boy who had been Loki. Who was under that paint? What had caused Loki to ruin that painting? Questions kept Tony up late. Questions, and his own fear of the man’s fury. But eventually, his tired body forced him into a fitful sleep filled with visions of black paint and eyes like blue fire.


	4. Chapter 4

Loki hefted the tall portrait, leaning it against the wall. He tried to avoid looking at the mural, but it was like a phantom force was pulling his gaze up until he was staring into gentle blue eyes, unable to move. He knew she’d be disappointed in him for doing it, ruining and hiding the piece of art she’d put on that wall. His mother had loved their family more than anything. But he felt no remorse. After what had been done to him, he couldn’t. He didn’t notice the welling tears until they spilled down his cheeks.

 

Tony spent the next day chasing down the names on the list of suspects they’d compiled. Most were fruitless, they had alibis that checked out and nothing of value to offer Tony. All but one. She was an older woman named Rita, a chef who, according to other employees was quite the gossip. He’d manage to catch her in the kitchen while she was making a batch of cannoli. “I bet it was that bootlegger those two shut down during their little squabble,” she told Tony.

“A bootlegger?” Tony prompted.

“Yes, mix this dough for me, will you?” She’d already moved on to mixing the filling before Tony could respond, so he sighed and rolled up his sleeves.

“Tell me about this bootlegger,” he said.

“Gently, don’t ruin my dough,” she corrected. Tony complied, hoping it would make the woman talk quicker. Once she was satisfied with his technique, she went back to her own work and started explaining. “There was a bootlegger on the river, a little bit further south than your murder. When those boys started fighting, he was caught in the crossfire, packed up the smuggling and opened up a speakeasy. Right under your noses too,” she said with a chuckle, “not that he has anything to worry about. Hell, I hear that boy is selling his booze to the police.” she chuckled as she worked, not noticing as Tony’s eyes went wide. “You can stop mixing that now. Kneed it out flat and put it in the refrigerator.” Tony nodded and followed her instructions as she brushed her hands off, sitting down next to Tony at the table.

“Why do you think he would start a war like that?” If this was who Tony thought it was, he couldn’t picture him laying a hand on a woman.

“Pah, he probably wants his old life back. Speakeasies pay well, but smuggling like that boy was pays better.”

Tony nodded. He needed to make sure he knew who this was. “You know where I can find this guy?”

Rita smiled knowingly. “I figured you’d know the way by heart, detective. You don’t seem the sober type.” Rita gave him directions to this speakeasy, and it checked out. It was Tony’s favourite place. It was where he’d met Loki.

 

Tony tried to keep calm as he walked into Clint’s establishment, not thinking about how he may have been buying drinks from a murderer. Clint wouldn’t do that, would he? He sat down at the bar, receiving a warm welcome from the usual patrons. Clint smiled. “Haven’t seen you around lately, Tony. Everything alright?”

“Just peachy,” Tony replied, “been busy with a case is all.”

“Need to bounce ideas off someone?” It was a common occurrence, Tony walking in to talk to Clint about whatever mystery he was currently stumped on. Just talking out loud to a fresh ear could help Tony when he ran out of ideas.

“Not today. I’m actually here for some information.”

Clint stared at him incredulously. “Whatever I can do to help,” he said.

Tony wrung his hands for a moment, almost considering backing out. This was stupid, Clint would never do something like this, Tony couldn’t picture him laying a hand on anyone, least of all a helpless lady. But up until three months ago, he’d never thought that a man’s pregnant wife would be willing to beat him to death with a frozen leg of lamb, but that had happened too. Tony took a breath. “Can you tell me your history with the Odinsons?”

Clint’s smile faded. “So you’re the one he got to solve this murder?”

“How’d you hear about that?”

“He hired you in that corner booth, Tony.” Tony felt suddenly very foolish. “Besides, when you run a business like mine, you have to keep your ear to the ground.”

“Right.”

“But my history with those two isn’t much to speak of. I’d never even seen either of them in person until a week ago,” Clint began, his voice hushed. “Thor sees all other bootleggers as competition, wants to see them all ruined. Loki knows that, so he charges more to allow them in his territory. I wasn’t paying up, I couldn’t afford what he was asking, so he had some of my guys disappear. I backed out of the business before he went after someone more important to me.”

“Any resentment about that?” Tony prodded.

Clint looked at Tony in disbelief. “You think I want to get caught in the crossfire of another turf war? I’m not in any position to seize power if they’re at each other’s throats. Besides, I might not be right on the river anymore, but I’m close, I’d get caught up in the crossfire. I’ve got a family to think about, why would I risk their safety for a chance at getting a tiny chunk of territory _if_ one of them gets killed?” Tony was suddenly very aware of the wedding band glimmering on Clint’s left hand. He felt stupid now. Of course, Clint wouldn’t do something like that.

He sighed. “I know you wouldn’t. But I have to investigate every possible suspect. I can’t overlook anyone.”

Clint nodded. “I get it, don’t worry. Now, are you gonna get a drink, or are you done here?”

Tony grinned. “I’ll have a drink.”

 

Tony got home around sunset, creeping into the kitchen. Rita had finished her cannoli, they were arranged neatly on a plate and sitting on the counter. He grabbed one, and was about to escape with his prize when he felt a hand on the back of his collar and heard Rita say “oh no you don’t.” The cannoli was snatched from his hand and returned to the plate as Rita smacked his wrist lightly with a wooden spoon. “I didn’t make those for you,” she scolded, “but since you’re so eager, why don’t you take them up to Loki? He locked himself in the library this morning and hasn’t been out except to eat.” She shook her head, handing the plate to Tony.

“I don’t know if he’ll want to see me,” Tony protested.

“That boy would welcome his brother with open arms if he was bringing my cannoli,” she argued, pushing Tony out the door. “Now go on!”

Tony stumbled into the hallway with a laugh. His smile faded as he realized that he’d have to talk to Loki. He knew it would be awkward, that the tension would hang thick in the air between them. Tony didn’t like that Loki had lashed out at him, but he also figured Loki had wanted that painting to stay covered for a good reason. He shook his head, trying to clear away his anxieties. He still had to work with this guy, and that would be a nightmare if things were left like this. He was at the library door before he knew it, and he brought his hand up to knock. There was a long moment of silence, and Tony was almost ready to just walk in, in case Loki had fallen asleep. But then he heard him say “come in.” And he pushed the door open.

Loki was seated in a plush armchair, papers scattered across the table along with an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts and ashes. “Detective Stark,” Loki said curtly, not looking up from his paperwork.

“The chef sent this up for you,” Tony said, holding up the plate of cannoli. Loki looked up and smiled fondly.

“Rita does know how I love those.” He gestured for Tony to come closer. Tony set the plate down, awkwardly sitting on the couch. “She’ll never tell me how she makes them.” He popped one in his mouth, closing his eyes and humming in satisfaction.

“My grandmother used to make those,” Tony said, trying to cut through the awkwardness that hung in the air. “She only told my mom the recipe when she was on her deathbed.” He chuckled.

Loki nodded. He picked up another one, staring at it in contemplation for a moment. “You can have some if you’d like,” he said.

Tony grinned. “Thanks.” They didn’t discuss what had happened the previous night, didn’t even acknowledge the subject. Instead, they marvelled at the quality of the desserts and Tony told stories about his grandmother. He talked about Christmas at her house when he was a child when she’d work herself to the bone making desserts for his entire extended family, all crammed together in her tiny country house. Of how she’d taught him to cook and bake, and how his food never turned out quite as good as hers had. He talked about how he’d spend summers at her cottage and she would insist on speaking only Italian until he could speak the language like a local. Loki didn’t share many stories of his own. Except one.

“Rita has been working for my family since we moved to America,” he started, “She was more of a grandmother to us than my father’s mother. She’d take care of us when mother was gone, and tell me and my brother off when we fought, which was… often. She tried her hardest to teach us both Italian, but Thor was never one for the language. I picked it up fairly quickly, though I admit I’m not quite as fluent as I used to be.”

“ _Tu parli Italiano?_ ” He grinned.

Loki thought a moment, making a wavering hand motion. “ _Alquanto_ . _È passato molto tempo._ ” He spoke carefully, giving thought to each word.

Tony laughed. “ _Non male.”_

“ _Grazie._ ” Loki wasn’t looking Tony in the eye, but he was smiling, and for some reason that made Tony’s heart swell a little. There was only one cannoli left on the plate, and Tony reached for it. At the same time, Loki’s hand moved to grab it. Tony’s hand ended up pinned under Loki’s for a moment, and their wide eyes met.

“You, uh, you can have that,” Tony stammered as he pulled his hand back.

Loki nodded, awkwardly chewing his lip as he picked up the dessert. “Thank you.”

Tony stared down at his hands, working up the courage for what he wanted to say next. “L-sir, I’m sorry for, uh, knocking your painting down.”

Loki swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His eyes flicked to Tony’s for a moment, strikingly blue in the golden light of the sunset before they moved back to his hands. “And…” he almost seemed to back out of what he wanted to say for a moment, but then he pressed on. “And I am sorry for losing my temper. That mural is a sore spot for my whole family.”

“What happened?” Tony blurted. He clapped his hand over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say it, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

Loki turned those eyes, softer than Tony had seen them, the faintest wisp of a smile on his face, a mix of fondness and melancholy that made Tony’s gut twist in empathy. “I’m afraid I’m a bit too sober for that story,” Loki breathed, biting his lip. He stood up, giving Tony a clap on the shoulder as he walked past. “Perhaps another time.” Tony listened to the door shut with a groan, leaning back against the couch and taking in the silence. He sighed. After a moment, he reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table.

 

Loki waited until he’d closed the door of his room before he let the tears fall. Stupid Stark and his stupid questions, cutting right through his carefully constructed walls like they were made of paper, pushing all the right buttons to dredge up the things Loki wanted to think about least. He wanted to throw something, punch walls, break something, anything to make him feel in control. His emotions were not the master of him. But he did none of that. Lashing out physically was the show of a man who could not control his urges, who let his mood guide his decisions. That was beneath him. Of course, he’d thought tears were beneath him, but here he was, sitting on his bedroom floor with tears streaming down his face. He let out a bitter laugh. What would father think?

He sat there for a long while, quietly letting the tears roll down his face, not giving them the dignity of acknowledgment. And then, when the tears had finished, he still didn’t move. He couldn’t even summon the energy. Instead, he let his eyes drift lazily around his bedroom, from the window looking over the dark estate, to the desk piled high paper and books, and finally settling on the gramophone tucked into the corner of the room. He hadn’t played it, not since… since he’d lost her. It had felt wrong. She had loved music. Hearing it reminded him of her laughter as she danced, of her holding him in the night when he’d had a nightmare and father had told him to be a man. It reminded him of all things perfect and right in the world, and it stung because all those things had died with her. But now he pulled a record from its place on the shelf at random, blew off the dust, and carefully set it into place. He laid on his bed and closed his eyes, and he could almost hear his mother humming along as it started up.

 

_We leave home, expecting to find a bluebird,_

_Hoping every cloud will be silver-lined._

_But we all return, as we live, we learn_

_That we left our happiness behind._

 

Loki smiled. She’d sung this one to him before, the first time he and his father had fought. That had been the day he found out he was adopted. It had been a loud fight, Loki screaming at his father for keeping this from him, Odin’s voice infuriatingly calm as he explained. How Loki had been found abandoned on the streets, left to die by someone who hadn’t cared for him. He had been fourteen, and his mother had stepped in before the fight turned physical. She’d guided him into his room and hugged him. He’d struggled against her at first, but she had held onto him as she whispered quiet apologies and reassurances that she still loved him every bit as much as Thor, that he was every bit her son. And then he’d given in, and sobbed onto her shoulder as she hummed.

 

_The bird with feathers of blue_

_Is waiting for you,_

_Back in your own backyard._

_You’ll see your castle in Spain_

_Through your window pane,_

_Back in your own backyard._

 

He had tried to run away not long after that. He had felt like he couldn’t live in that house anymore. Yes, he still loved his mother, but the rest of his family made him feel like an alien, like he didn’t belong in his own home. So he’d packed a bag, stolen some money and a pack of cigarettes, and waited until nightfall to leave. He’d made it as far as the city before he got mugged. They’d stolen everything but the clothes on his back and left him with a knife in his side in a back alley. He’d been lucky enough that a young woman walked past and saw him, that she’d pitied him enough to take him to a hospital. He reluctantly agreed to call his parents. His mother had wrapped his arms around him and cried, his brother had ruffled his hair and acted like he had never been worried, and his father had said nothing. He’d stood off to the side and watched the whole affair with this indecipherable look in his eyes. Loki had just given him a cold stare and ignored him. And when everyone else left, his mother had stayed at his bedside all through the night.

 

_Oh, you can go to the east, go to the west,_

_But someday you’ll come,_

_Weary at heart, back where you started from._

_You’ll find your happiness lies_

_Right under your eyes,_

_Back in your own backyard._

 

Loki let out a deep sigh and hummed along.

 

_The little bird with feathers of blue_

_Is waiting, waiting for you,_

_Back in your own, back in your own backyard._

_You’ll see your castle in Spain_

_Through your window pane,_

_Back in your own, back in your own backyard._

 

_Oh, you can go to the east, go to the west,_

_But someday you’ll come,_

_Weary at heart, back where you started from._

_You’ll find your happiness lies_

_Right under your eyes,_

_Back in your own, back in your own backyard._

 

The music faded out, and after a moment Loki stood up and took the record off, slotting it back into place. He couldn’t help but miss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Italian was done with google translate, it's just meant to be a placeholder. If anybody speaks Italian and wouldn't mind helping out my monolingual ass I'd really appreciate it.


End file.
